Remember When

– Editor’s note: W.B. Evans is on the mend after a recent at-home mishap. “I climbed a ladder and fell off, simple as that,” he said. “I ain’t as young as I sometimes think I am.” We are reprinting this Remember When column on Vacation Bible School that was originally published in the June 29, 2008, edition of The Lancaster News.

No sooner had the final school bell rung for our last day at Chesterfield Avenue Grammar School, the bell at First Baptist Church peeled, summoning all of us to Vacation Bible School.

I have breaking news: Our neighborhoods have disappeared.
The young folks moved away and the older folks have gotten older or moved on, too.
What happened? Our neighborhoods are now full of strangers who seldom speak, much less wave.
Why are there no children riding tricycles or scooters on the sidewalks?
Shucks, most recently developed neighborhoods don’t even have sidewalks. For that matter, most of the residents don’t even know what a scooter is.

A couple of weeks after Sears and Roebuck sent back Aunt Bessie’s check for my J.C. Higgins Roadmaster, stuff was changing in a hurry.
One of ‘em was my opinion of President Roosevelt. I thought he had made a big mistake. I just couldn’t figure out how one bicycle could contribute so mightily to the war effort.
Mama was reading the morning paper about how tires, gasoline, sugar, electric ice boxes, Hershey Bars, and shoes, among other things would be in short supply for the home folks.

– Editor’s note: W.B. Evans is on vacation this week. Due to reader requests, we are reprinting this Remember When column, which was originally published in the May 13, 2007, edition of The Lancaster News. “Mamas cannot be replaced, but our memories help keep them alive,” Evans said. “I’m getting mushy, but somehow I feels that she knows I still care, at least, if The Lancaster News is on the newsstands in heaven!”

Here we go again. It’s been a whole week since Easter and the great-grands are still begging me to hide the eggs, one more time.
Fortunately, somebody invented plastic eggs. The mess of real chicken-produced eggs from the coop in the back yard that came to life thanks to Mama’s boiling and dyeing efforts are a thing of the past.
As a child, my enjoyment of the egg-hunting didn’t last this long.
Mama started the spring cleaning right after Easter.